Living On A Memory
by Quantum Witch
Summary: 2011 \\'Kingmaker' verse timestamp between "UYI" & "STE" \\ After losing Castiel, a self-destructive Dean wanders for months. Sam follows to keep from losing Dean as well.


**LIVING ON A MEMORY **_(previously titles: "Can't See, Eyes Open Wide")_

a Supernatural fanfic by quantum witch © 2012  
**Rating:** R  
**Warning:** strong language, character death reference, alcoholism  
**Spoilers:** through most of S6  
**Pairing: **Dean/Cas implied  
**Note 1**: Thank you to wanderamaranth for her marvelous as ever input and support.  
**Note 2: **This is a time stamp from the **Kingmaker 'verse,** taking place between **"Use Your Illusions"** and **"Somewhere to Elsewhere". **(see bio for links)**  
Note 3: **New title comes from the song "Living on a Memory" by Alannah Myles. It was much more appropriate.

**Summary: **After losing Castiel, a self-destructive Dean wanders for months. Sam follows to keep from losing Dean as well.

* * *

June

They'd all been grieving Castiel's death in Utah.

The angel had stopped the Apocalypse. He'd sacrificed himself to take down Eve the Leviathan by making himself into the very key that locked her and her children away in Purgatory, just as the prophecy showed. Those that stood with him – Sam, Dean, Bobby, the small group of hunters, the angels who followed Castiel, even the demons sent by Crowley – had faced down and defeated Raphael's armies on the battlefield and knew of his bravery. Those that survived were forever grateful.

But Dean… Oh God.

Castiel been special to them personally, to each in their own way, but nothing like he'd been to Dean. The loss was all the more cruel coming on the heels of Dean's realization of the depth of his feelings for the angel. Once again, Dean Winchester got close, opened himself up for someone and then it them snatched away, brutally. They both felt so bad for him they couldn't even find words to express it.

Dean had broken down and cried himself to exhaustion while in the bluebell woods formed from the angel's grace, but afterward he'd gone numb. For the entire ride back to South Dakota Dean didn't utter a single word or even play any music, opting instead to stare out the window silently as Sam drove. Once they arrived at Bobby's he'd crawled inside a bottle and violently pulled the cork in after himself, and he'd been there ever since.

The denial stage of grieving didn't last very long. Dean told his brother he knew damned well what had happened – Cas blew himself up to save the damned world. Again. It was the improbability of Cas' previous two returns that made Dean hope just a tiny bit that it would happen once more. It had broken Sam's heart to watch Dean lie on the hood of the Impala, drunk and whispering to the heavens, hoping Cas would hear him and come down. After four days, Sam had to tell him that Cas wasn't there. No angel in heaven heard Castiel's voice.

That led straight into fury. Dean raged at Sam and called him a liar. He raged at Cas for being gone. He raged at Bobby because he was there. After only two days, Bobby got sick of it and kicked Dean out, telling Sam to keep an eye on him and to call if it got bad enough to need more help than Sam could provide. He wouldn't abandon them, but he couldn't take it under his roof.

o - o - o - o

Sam couldn't let Dean go alone, so he followed his brother to the first motel they would stay in. But Dean's anger led to broken lamps and drunken shouting in the parking lot, a couple of fights where Sam had to stitch him up, and two days later to the management kicking them out.

They moved to another motel across town where it wasn't much better. Dean stayed very drunk the entire time, so fighting was more difficult – it's hard to pick fights when you can hardly walk. Sam tried to talk to him again and this made Dean angry enough to try and drive away and leave Sam behind. Sam took his keys and hid them, hoping Dean wouldn't want to hot wire his baby. Dean searched for his keys with varying levels of coherence for five days.

o - o - o - o

Dean sobered up a bit after that, and began to act more normally – though he still flat-out refused to discuss Cas with his brother – and they took a couple of jobs. Dean was sloppy; Sam had to watch closely, pulling Dean back from certain injury more than once. Since Sam's reaction time was enhanced thanks to his newly acquired psychic abilities, there wasn't much real danger, and Sam tried convincing himself that Dean was on his way to recovery. Sam wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, to ease his concern, but wisely didn't.

Almost two weeks after they'd started hunting again, they were squatting in an abandoned house in the middle of Arkansas when he woke to find Dean sneaking out. He went on foot, leaving the Impala, and Sam knew something bad was happening. Sam nearly lost track of Dean through the woods but caught up in time to see him talking to a crossroads demon. Sam was ready to burst out and exorcise her before a deal was sealed, but the demon just backed away from Dean shaking her head.

"I can't give you that," she said. "It's just not possible. We can do damned near anything by the rules of our magic. But we can't bring back a dead angel. He's just gone. You better get used to it."

Sam hadn't needed to interfere because Dean ganked her with the demon knife. Just as well, it gave Sam time to sneak back to the house without being noticed.

No more attempts were made (as far as Sam could tell) to regain Castiel by demonic means. He did see Dean researching spells and rituals to summon angels and question them, but after two days of his brother's obsessive muttering Sam put an end to that possibility. He sent a wide range message on angel radio, warning all to not answer Dean when he called.

They'd stayed away.

* * *

July

Dean's despondency grew to epic proportions. He started drinking again, heavier than before. For four days, Sam fought him to keep him from going out to buy booze. Dean eventually punched him and said he could rent his own damned motel room from then on. And Sam did, right next door, so he could watch as much as possible. Dean went out a few times, but mostly he bought booze and went back to the motel and drank until he passed out.

Sam finally caved and worked some mind-control on Dean, enough to make him stop drinking and take care of himself. After half a day he realized it wouldn't matter. Dean was aware of it and his furious resentment wasn't something Sam wanted to endure. It could fracture the already shaky relationship they had at the moment. He released his hold on Dean, who promptly punched him again, splitting his lip. It was just as well, he'd have had to stop controlling Dean long enough to sleep, and right now Dean might well have murdered him while he was unconscious.

For two and half weeks, he left Dean alone. And Dean slept from dawn to dusk. If Sam hadn't picked the lock and brought him food Dean probably would have let himself starve. As it was, Sam didn't think he would be allowed to drag Dean into the shower, no matter how bad that situation was getting. He tried once and had come away with a broken finger and a black eye.

So he let Dean be, for another five days. Until that motel kicked them out also, saying that Dean had destroyed the room with his squalor. Sam had to agree.

* * *

August

They moved on again. Bobby called, worried about them. He invited them back to his place, so long as Dean agreed to take baths and eat at least once a day and not mess up the spare bedroom. Dean obeyed but he was like an automaton. They were there for two weeks.

Dean was still drunk more than he should have been. Sam and Bobby weren't sure how he was getting so much alcohol when he never left the house. Finally they discovered he was having it delivered while they were out on jobs or in town for some reason. They put an end to that quickly. Which led to Dean being angry again, and two days later he left to stay in the latest motel near the strip club. Sam was still relegated to buying his own room.

o - o - o - o

Dean started talking to Sam again, but it was bright and false and brittle, like Sam was just a buddy he'd met for drinks. After three days of that, Sam got furious.

He did, as Dean later put it, bitch at him for a solid week until he could drag Dean forcibly to the AA meeting. Admittedly the worst last ditch effort anyone could make, but he'd hoped to show Dean that other people were in pain too, and that they had found hope by being in a group and sharing their troubles, by offering solutions to one another. He'd thought that by seeing a group of strangers talking to one another he'd feel more comfortable with talking to Sam, and just Sam, afterwards.

God, had _that_ been a mistake. A single disastrous meeting and it was clear Dean would not be welcome back. Worse, Sam found himself in agreement with most of Dean's complaints about the group's procedure. He let Dean alone for a while.

o - o - o - o

For the next week, Dean avoided Sam like he was a stranger. He spent most of his nights at the strip club, watching the girls and drinking, playing pool and not speaking much. Sam followed, and was disappointed at how little he was enjoying it himself.

At the end of that week, Dean finally did as he would normally have done and picked up one of the waitresses and took her back to the motel. Sam was hesitant to follow then, but he did just in case. He didn't want to listen to Dean have sex through the motel wall, but if Dean lost control and anyone was hurt… Well, he had to be there. But it was silent. And the girl left after half an hour, disgruntled. Later, Dean tried again; three different girls, same results. After that, he stopped trying.

* * *

September

Sam was almost in complete despair. He broke into Dean's room the next night to find his brother drinking again. Sighing, he sat on the lone chair in the room and said, "Dean, this has to stop. You have to talk to me. You have to… you have to accept it."

"I have accepted it," Dean said softly, not even bothering to pretend he didn't know what Sam was talking about. "He's gone, for good this time. I know he's gone. Sam, I know it." He turned to look at his brother, eyes red from drinking and not from crying. "You've been saying nothing but that for months. So fuck off. If I wanted to talk to you I would have already."

Sam ground his teeth. "Damn it, Dean. No. You either start talking about Cas and what you're feeling, or I'm gonna… Shit, there's nothing I can do other than mess with your mind, beat the hell out of you, or leave your sorry ass here and walk away for good. None of which will fix this. But Dean… You're my brother and I love you and you're _killing_ me, watching this. It's like you're slowly dying in front of my eyes and I can't do a damned thing to help you." Sam's voice caught on his words, and Dean looked up to see he was crying.

Dean swallowed hard. "Sammy, I… I can't help it. I miss him. I fucking miss him…" And he was crying too, goddamnit. He rubbed furiously at his eyes but it was too late.

"I know, I know," Sam came to sit on the bed. "You know that he'd be really pissed at you for acting like this, don't you? He'd say that he didn't raise you from perdition just to let you rot your liver. You're not _living_, Dean. He did everything to save you, so you could live the life you wanted… and you're not _living_. Not really."

Dean trembled then, as though a cold wind had passed through him. He didn't speak, just nodded and then stood up, took a shower, changed his clothes and threw away the last unopened bottle of whiskey. He stood at the motel window and stared out at the day, which wasn't anything special – slightly overcast, mildly chilly – and took a deep breath.

"Okay," he said softly, "let's get the hell out of here and find something to kill. I'm good to go."

Sam believed him. It had taken three months and five days of hell to get this far. And he knew it would still be much, much longer before Dean's heart wasn't totally raw. It was almost a dead certainty Dean would never fall in love again. But he was gonna try to live, and that was the best thing Sam had heard in ages.

~ END


End file.
